Hang Up Your Armor And Embrace Me
by BugTongue
Summary: Newton lives in a monastery, though his calling is more for studying the physical works of God rather than praising his name, so he employs sword-for-hire Hermann to escort him to the sea and back. Things go awry, as they are wont. Or: Cleric Newt and Fighter Hermann go on an adventure.


"To the ocean?"

Hermann had donned his worn but less tattered armor to meet with his potential new charge, a monk of some sort who wanted to study the glory of God out where humankind hadn't changed it for their use. He was short and scruffy and was crouched over the front garden of the monastery when Hermann came to greet him in person. The monk, Brother Geiszler, had been writing to him for a while now and Hermann wasn't ashamed to say he'd fallen quite smitten with the man's sharp but flowing handwriting and interest in the more technical side of Hermann's exploits; the tactical planning, care and creation of weapons, cartography, all of it. In return he babbled endlessly about his findings and research on the natural, occasionally stepping just this side of heretical.

"More like, to the ocean and back." Brother Geiszler stood up and brushed dirt from his hands onto his robes. He was a hands width shorter and draped in black, a pair of spectacles balanced on his nose. He took the latter off and tucked them into a pocket inside his robes, then held out his hand. "The names Newt, pleasure to finally meet you."

Hermann raised his brow but did shake the hand offered. "Charmed. So that would be why you mentioned no particular endpoint, you intend to return here after wandering about in the wilderness."

"Precisely." Newt, which couldn't possibly be his real name that was preposterous, it was most likely Newton, held his pointer finger skywards and winked. "What better way to explore and learn? Unfortunately nearly everyone who leaves here for trips like that has gone alone and either not returned or come back mangled, so I figured well, I know a guy, and you seemed to have done this sort of thing before."

"Yes well you do realize it's not free, I understand you're a man of God with no belongings and such but call me a miser, I don't work without pay.

Newt(on) sighed. "I know that, i'm not that ignorant of the world. I've already spoken with the bishop about this, and he seemed as excited as he ever gets."

'I wonder why,' Hermann thought aridly.

"Have you yet finished playing in the mud? The sky worries me, we need to get into town before it gets nasty out." Hermann squinted at the approaching clouds, dark grey and bringing with them a chill. Newton was down in the ravine with his jars and pressing papers like he had all the time in the world.

"I'll be up soon, stop worrying so much. Besides, a little water won't hurt you."

"Not the water what worries me..." He crossed his arms and lifted his head to the sky once more, in time to see harsh lilac split the sky. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6- The crack that followed hurt his ears and caused his heart to stutter, down in the ravine he heard Newton yelp. "No time, damn you!"

Newton already had his bag slung over his shoulder as Herman dug his heels into the dirt, grass ripping beneath his weight, and ushered him towards the treeline. The rain began to hit not long after, and Newton looked out of sorts. It hit Hermann he might not ever have been caught in a thunderstorm, having spent at least his adult life in the monastery if not longer than that.

Lightening lit the world in harsh contrast and they both flinched. "Get down, once we get farther in you crouch down and you stay down until this passes." Hermann waited for Newton to nod in response, then shoved him towards a tree which was slightly shorter than the rest. Newton whirled back towards him wildly.

"What? Where are you going then?" He was standing still and God help him but they didn't have time for this. He pointed stiffly at the tree.

"Sit your ass down!"

Newton's expression soured and he took one step nearer Hermann before another flash of lightening, followed swiftly by it's thunder, sent him lurching for safety. Hermann did much the same a few paces away, tossing his pack and sword out into the mud before settling down bend low over his feet.

The storm would pass, and then would come a common sense talk he hoped would keep his charge alive.

He knew they would be sharing a bed more often than not, certainly, but he hadn't originally considered it would be in this sense. It had failed to cross his mind that a monk might be so lax on a vow of chastity but evidently Newton had very different ideas of what made a man of god pure.

The weight of another person in his lap, the heat of him pressed close, and the hair between his fingers more than made up for the frustration of the day. Dealing with Newton was like trying to turn sewer rats into a traveling amusement for children. His train of thought broke off with a groan as his lip was caught in the grip of unkind teeth, to which he retaliated by twisting his hand tighter in rough brown hair.

Newton cupped his face with both hands and kissed him until they fell over the edge of the bed, and didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself. Instead he laughed himself silly.

"Do shut up, were we not in the middle of something?" Hermann shoved him sideways and followed with a twist of his spine so he could bodily hold Newton securely in place. The floor was lazily swept, grit dug into his palms and stuck in his hair, but more important were green eyes and a grin that made his heart twist in what absolutely had to be frustration or want and nothing more.

"I think I'd call that the beginning really, is that usually the middle of an encounter for you?" Newton tilted his head back smugly and squeezed Hermann's hips with his knees, legs trapped in his robes.

"That is enough from you." Hermann latched onto the exposed arch of Newton's throat and sunk is teeth in until he heard a gasp and felt Newton arch beneath him.

"This is not just a pretty flower, it'll help with stomach pains too. And this one is good for tooth pain. And this one is just plain tasty." When Hermann looked over Newt was holding up a weed from the basket hed made of his robes, expression triumphant. "There are a lot of plants out here I don't have any information on but a good deal is identifiably useful!"

"Were you aware that I frequently survive off the land? Has that crossed your mind at any point on this little adventure?" Hermann asked with an air of blithe insincerity. Newton shot him an unimpressed look.

"Ha, didn't realize I was being escorted by a jester." He dropped his plant into the collection as Hermann made a rude gesture, shaking his head. "Bless you too."

"I'm glad you find such amusement in a bunch of grass, although I would feel much better if you helped with the hunting. Failing that, I'd like it if you ate the meat I bring into camp without looking like you might turn green yourself. Have you taken some other meaningless vow against the consumption of living creatures?"

Newton deposited his harvest on top of an old stump he'd decided to use as his work table for the last couple days. "No, I just don't enjoy eating other children of God."

"The trees are children of god, your clovers and mints are children of god, Excuse me if I don't readily accept that answer."

"You can accept sleeping by yourself tonight, the skies are clear and I intend to stargaze." He glanced over and stuck out his tongue, like an absolute child.

"What was that?"

Dawn was just beginning to tinge the sky a pale grey, making the tent glow just enough to illuminate their outlines and shine on eyes and perspiration. The forest was awakening with the tittering of birds and the silencing of crickets. Newton's eyes opened with a considerable effort, sweat causing his skin to drag against Hermann's. "I can't see your face right now, are you playing tricks?"

A smirk pulled at Hermann's lips and he pulled back to peer through the fabric of their tent. "No I think I may need to go investigate."

"You'll not, you will stay right here, you- you damned incubus." Newton sucked in a sharp breath as Hermann jerked forward, his eyes slipping closed again. "The more you play games the longer this is going to take, you know this right?"

"All the more reason to play, I believe." The glare sent his way made his toes curl against the bedroll, and he rushed forward to taste the next complaint fresh from Newton's lips.

The small band of villagers had settled down for the evening to eat and eventually sleep. They played a stringed instrument as well as a flute to accompany singing of the foolish sort, insulting each other in turns and drinking spiced, watered down ale.

Hermann was to be murdered when the sun rose. They had recognized him from a few years back, lucky him.

He closed his eyes and did not think too hard about all that he hadn't yet done, of course not. He was thirty six years of age and a decorated soldier, and a fighter for hire who'd protected loads of important people. The line of his mouth twitched downwards, betraying him. Rich ladies and lords, merchants, a duke once, and none were more important in his eyes than the strange little man of God he'd been toting around the past half-year.

He was afraid of not seeing him again, but more still he was afraid of the opposite. The blessed fool was a pacifist of the worst sort, taking his beatings in many moods and never once raising his hand in return, an odd and infuriating creature who was more willing to die out of stubbornness against hermann's advice than any real dedication to his Lord.

He believed in a small, dark part of his stained heart that Newton was God punishing him for not being any sort of devout. Just a week ago they were attacked by robbers and Newton nearly allowed himself to be stuck through the heart rather than raise the short sword Hermann had given him, and then pouted for days after he'd punched him in the mouth for being so stupid.

'You didn't have to hit me,' he'd said, licking the split in his lip while sitting across the low flames. Hermann turned his sword over the fire to evenly roast the rodent (nameless to him and likely very interesting to Newton) impaled on his sword.

'You deserved worse. Fool that you are you might learn from a better beating than i doled out.'

Newton picked at his hunk of meat, and Hermann tried very hard not to throttle him for being finicky in their situation.

Coming back to himself, he realized he'd fallen asleep only when the clash of metal and the unmistakable sound of choking on blood reached his ears. There was a scuffle on the other side of the tree they tied him to and he has only the dying fire in his peripheral and the swath of forest before him to look to for answers, listening hard. Then he heard a yelp whose owner must only be Newton, and his heart leapt between his teeth only to settle nervously in his empty gut.

There was muttering and cursing and hissing, then once more a metallic bout of sound. Hurried feet. Newton shoving him to get at the rope behind his back after falling hard to his knees, breath coming harsh and fast and his sweaty head pressed to Hermann's shoulder.

"Come on, come on, there..." The rope came loose to allow Hermann a leap to his feet but Newton came up much slower, and now he could see why. The Brother was bloodied and battered and wobbling on his feet with a tilt to his entire bearing. Hermann pointed at him.

"You sit the hell back down, i'll show you a proper fight."

The look of not only wonder, not only intense interest, but fear on Newton's face set coals to burning inside his gut to replace his heart, and he whirled on the remaining men.

"This is pitiful Newton, really. I've fought mutts better at holding a sword than you."

They were in a small clearing, too small to be called a meadow but filled with wildflowers all the same, dark green with hundreds of little blotches of color accompanied by the sound of insects. Newton had already collected a few for study, but currently he was down to his underclothes and awkwardly wielding the short sword he'd named Michael.

"I'm sure a dog would be a better fighter with or without a sword, as you might recall, jerk, I barely survived saving you." Newton was still favoring his left side with the curve of his spine, wound long cauterized but tender with healing. Both were sweating in the late summer warmth and glad for the surrounding shade to retreat to between bursts of sparring. Hermann shook his head, mouth twisting.

"Hardly a rescue, I'd likely done better to cut the rope against the tree's bark and fight my way out alone rather than stand over your fool self."

Newton shrugged and dropped the sword to the ground. "I'm tired and bored, you can have fun with tree bark for the rest of the afternoon if it pleases you."

Their shoulders knocked together as he passed and Hermann bit his cheek to keep from turning it into something more akin to wrestling.

He needn't get into a bout with the devout little weirdo until he could stand straight again.

Metal clashed against bone, broke bone, ripped and rent sinew and meat as the highwayman broke past Hermann's guard and slashed a rough line of fire through his thigh. He crumpled, mouth open but soundless save for a rattling gasp. Then the screaming came, torn from his lungs by something demonic, something past pain and into raging futility. His leg wasn't responding, not well enough to stand again, and there was enough blood soaking through his clothing to alarm him despite being at this for two decades.

That no killing blow met him brought his attention upwards to see Newton fighting the man, his pace pale and his stance stiff, unsure. He looked wretchedly inexperienced and Hermann squeezed his eyes shut to block it all out. Another rattling gasp, another wail, and something like a sob tumbled out afterwards. He opened his eyes to look frantically about for something with which to stop the bleeding, wrap around the wound tight enough to possibly, potentially save his life. He heard a scream that didn't belong to him and pressed his lips thin, glaring upwards at the highwayman to preserve some scrap of dignity.

But the highwayman was on his hands and knees gurgling, instead it was newt who fell before him and ripped off the sleeve of his robe to tie around Hermann's thigh, pressing down until Hermann saw white.

"Hermann, come on, i need you to hold this, i need you to focus, i can't do this and build a fire i need you to stay awake until i can actually- hahh, oh god this is bad." Newt paled further before leaping up and away to, presumably, start a fire.

The breeze off the water stirred Hermann's hair and ruffled his clothing. The armor was gone, along with his shoes, and he focused on the sounds drifting up from the dock. The air was warmer here, it was humid and smelled like fish and grass and fruits he rarely got the chance to eat.

He couldn't be happy for any of it.

Newton sat down in the remaining chair on the small balcony, glancing sidelong at him. "Feeling any better?"

"I still can't stand for longer than a few minutes without wanting to rip my damned leg off, what kind of question…" His mouth twisted in a snarl and he glared out over the boats at the setting sun. "I'm rather useless as a bodyguard now, aren't I? I can't get you back to the monastery."

They sat in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon. Finally, Newton spoke again. "I don't think I want to go back. I'm fairly certain the Bishop would rather me stay gone anyway, and if I go back then I-" He sighed explosively, startling Hermann.

"You what, would you miss the life of adventure?" His lip curled as the words hung heavily, Newton not responding as quickly as he'd hoped.

"That's one way to say it, I guess." Newton leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together and resting them atop his head. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"I'll go in on my own, later." Bitterness coated his throat and he couldn't make himself look up as Newton went inside. This was getting old, fast.

"Stay with me, Here. I can become a scholar in the nearby city, a city Herman, and you can live with me and scare all the neighbors like a guard dog." Newt was draped longways across his lap while Hermann traced nonexistent polygons in his skin. "You could be a scholar with me, you know numbers like no one I've ever met."

"Not that the idea doesn't sound delightful but i doubt we would remain welcome for very long if we shared a building with other men of higher learning. I do believe our shouting would disturb their thinking."

"We can do our shouting at home then."

Hermann snorted and spread his fingers out over Newton's lumbar muscles, the give there something he was sure Newton's book warned against. "You can't run away from the monastery."

"You won't come with me, and I can't go back alone."

"I'll help you find another knight."

"I won't have another," He sat up and wrapped his arms around Hermann's shoulders, taking away the cool air and replacing it with his breath. "And I won't be returning to somewhere I didn't belong anyway."

"Then I suppose we'll be forced to inflict ourselves upon the local populace." Newton's smile tasted like morning breath and unnamable herbs. "Do be careful not to make them think you're a witch."

"An alchemist perhaps."

"Do not." Hermanns tone held a warning, but he was damned by the way his eyes crinkled and his mouth pulled into a subdued grin.


End file.
